


a tale I know well

by undergroundash



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang and Zuko have a chat, Fluff that kinda hurts, Gen, I can't get enough of Toph and Zuko's friendship, I just love forcing characters to get to know each other ok, I see your theater kid Zuko and raise you Zuko who loved reading under the covers after bedtime, It's the enemies to (almost) friends for me, Mentions of the Air Nomad genocide and Fire Nation imperialism, Not me crying over the loss of Aang's people, This is my third fic centered around the Gaang at the Western Air Temple, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko's redemption is ongoing and this is one step in the process
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26936146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undergroundash/pseuds/undergroundash
Summary: “My mom used to tell me stories too.”  Zuko pauses, weighing his next words carefully.  “Would you like me to read to you?”For one terrifying moment he’s sure Toph will say no, that she’ll get angry and throw a rock at him- or worse, laugh in his face.  But the little earthbender continues to be full of surprises.“Sure, why not?”  Toph’s tone has returned to its typical carefree snark, but something almost sad hides in her expression.  “Impress me.”In which Zuko bonds with Toph and has a much-needed conversation with a certain airbender.
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Zuko
Comments: 49
Kudos: 411
Collections: A:tla





	a tale I know well

**Author's Note:**

> The main story Zuko references is based on an actual ancient Chinese legend (with the title altered by me to better fit the general mythology of the Avatar universe). All of the other stories the characters mention are things I’ve made up myself. More details on my thought process surrounding this at the end of the fic.  
> Also, I debated for way longer than necessary about whether to have Zuko’s stories be in scroll or book form, since both are present in the series (I think? I haven’t watched the library episode in a while). I ended up just referring to them as books, both because it was easier to remember and also because I ended up watching way too many videos on traditional Chinese bookbinding (also used in Korea, Japan, and Vietnam) and am now obsessed. Seriously, the process is so cool.

Not a lot has changed about the Western Air Temple since Zuko’s first visit, three years prior. The stone pagodas continue to hang maddeningly from the cliffside; statues and mosaics still adorn the halls proudly even after a century of neglect. The view of the surrounding forest likewise remains stunning- though Zuko can’t look at it without a guilty memory of his Uncle entering his mind. It was here that Zuko’s impossible quest for the Avatar had started, just as it was here that Iroh had gently advised him to slow down in his search, an effort that Zuko now sees was meant to shield him from the harsh reality of a fool's errand. 

It pains Zuko to think about Uncle, almost as much as it stings to think about himself back in those days. So misguided and angry and confused, missing home and craving the honor he thought his father could restore, and underneath it all- so very very hurt. 

It had taken Zuko three long years to understand what the war was doing to the rest of the world and see his father for the monster he really was. Three long years to decide to join the Avatar rather than hunt him to the ends of the earth. Three long, painful years to finally find his way. But he’d managed to do it.

So no, not a lot has changed around here, except for Zuko himself.

Getting the Avatar and his friends to accept him into their group goes about as well as he expects it to. That is, it goes horribly. Between the awkward introduction and the following debacle where he burns the blind earthbender’s feet- not to mention the still-fresh memory of him chasing them across two continents- Zuko can’t blame the others for not wanting him around. 

Ironically, it’s the assassin he’d hired to take them out that provides him with a second chance. Humble and repentant, Zuko presents himself to the group once the threat is taken care of and explains everything as best as he can without stumbling. This time his efforts are successful, and they welcome him in- though not without some hesitation. It’s honestly more than he ever let himself hope for, given the circumstances.

That’s hardly the end of his troubles, however. Despite the fact that Zuko’s now part of the group, it’s clear no one wants to spend more time with him than absolutely necessary. The Water Tribe siblings avoid him at all costs, casting him looks with varying levels of suspicion whenever he’s in sight. Aang regards him thoughtfully, friendly enough but with more restraint than he shows around anyone else. And Zuko barely sees the other three boys, who seem to spend their days running through the temple with abandon and only show up at mealtimes. 

At least Toph talks to him. The earthbender orders Zuko around with an undisguised glee that he supposes she deserves, and soon they fall into an easy sort of friendship. Any lingering animosity over her injured feet fades the second she realizes Zuko can radiate warmth, and Toph shamelessly claims the seat next to him at dinner every evening. She never faces much competition; it’s not like anyone else really wants to sit that close to him anyway. 

But besides that, Zuko finds himself with a lot of time alone- time that’s all too easily occupied by brooding over people from his past. He thinks of his mother and the faint possibility that she’s alive after all these years. He thinks about Mai, about whether she’s bored back in the Caldera (likely) and if she hates him for leaving her behind (likelier). He idly wonders what became of Captain Jee and the rest of his old crew, ponders the random Earth Kingdom families he met on his travels, and in his worst moments, stews over the twisted relationship he has with his sister. 

(He tries not to linger on her for too long.) 

But mostly Zuko thinks about his Uncle. Uncle’s endless patience and warmth, his constant efforts to get Zuko to relax and enjoy life a little, the strange nuggets of wisdom he often dropped over an afternoon cup of tea. Uncle, who stood by through his worst days, who had done nothing but help and teach and love him, who had disappeared into thin air after languishing in prison for weeks on end- a prison he ended up in as a direct result of Zuko’s betrayal.

It’s of his Uncle that Zuko thinks as he wanders through the temple one afternoon, navigating the maze of hallways by memory alone. He can almost hear Iroh’s voice in his ear, an echo of sage advice the old man had provided three years before. 

_“The Avatar hasn’t been seen for a hundred years. The chances of finding him here are very slim.”_

Zuko winces as he remembers his response, brashly snapping and calling Uncle the laziest man in the Fire Nation. He hadn’t deserved that. But then again, Uncle had been handed a lot of things he didn’t deserve. 

Zuko finally reaches the room he’s looking for and glances around. The vine-covered cloister appears the same as any other, unremarkable except for a large statue of a woman with an arrow on her head, seated in lotus position. Avatar Yangchen stares down impassively from her pedestal, causing Zuko to shiver as he feels something akin to judgement emanating from her unseeing eyes. 

A quick apology passes his lips before he hoists himself up onto the base of the statue. Zuko clambers as respectfully as possible over the stone figure, knowing the thing he’s searching for is stowed somewhere in the hollow space between the plinth and the crumbling wall behind it. The little cavity had seemed like the perfect hiding place three years ago, though all Zuko can think of now is just how little respect he’d previously shown the sacred space. 

Zuko pushes the thought from his mind and refocuses on his current task. The gap that he’d easily fit into as a thirteen-year-old suddenly seems impossibly narrow, just another reminder of how much has changed since his last visit here. He balances carefully on the loose rock and shoves his head and one arm into the opening, hand groping through the darkness. 

“What are you doing?”

Zuko startles and nearly falls off his precarious perch. A quick glance behind him reveals the Water Tribe boy- Sokka- who is staring up at him in confusion. He appears unconcerned that his words almost caused Zuko to topple backwards into thin air, instead crossing his arms as he waits for an answer. 

“I’m looking for something I left here last time,” Zuko says once he’s recovered his balance. 

Sokka regards him with mild curiosity. “You’ve been here before?”

“Years ago,” Zuko admits. “When I was first searching for the Avatar.” 

The other teen takes the revelation in stride, leaning against one of the many surrounding columns while trying- and mostly failing- to look uninterested. “Anything useful? Some kind of weapon? Or maybe some very well-preserved meat?”

Zuko ignores the slight absurdity of Sokka’s final question and shakes his head. “Nothing like that. Just some copies of old stories… you know, poems, spirit tales.”

He returns to his task, eyes straining to see where his prize is hidden. 

Sokka considers this new information, a funny look on his face. “You brought a bit of light reading on a quest to hunt the Avatar?”

The back of Zuko’s good ear turns slightly pink. 

“Well, my Uncle did.” Zuko’s voice echoes oddly, distorted by the fact that his head is still thrust into the rock as he searches. “We were going to be at sea for days on end and he thought it’d be something for me to focus on besides- oh here they are.” 

Zuko jumps back down to ground level, a worn sack in his hands. When he speaks, regret colors his voice. “I thought they were just silly distractions, so I left them behind when we came to search.”

“Oh.” Sokka can’t quite discern the expression on Zuko’s face as he stares down at the contents of the bag, but it’s clear the older teen’s thoughts are miles away. 

“Well… enjoy your story time,” Sokka offers uncertainly. He’s already halfway out of the courtyard when he hears the faint reply of “I will,” the words mumbled so softly that Sokka’s almost convinced no one said them at all. 

Zuko cradles his books tenderly in his arms, setting off to find a more comfortable place to read. 

“Hey Sparky, whatcha got there?” Toph’s arrival is accompanied by her usual loud stomping. She throws herself unceremoniously on the ground next to Zuko and begins to pick intently at her toes, appearing completely at ease. 

“Uh, a book.”

Zuko can see Toph’s interested look already fading and, eager to not alienate the one person who had been outright friendly to him since his arrival, hastens to explain.

“It’s _The Legend of the Cowhand and the Fire Spirit_.” He pauses for any sort of recognition but is only met with Toph’s blank stare. “It was one of my favorite stories when I was little, about a farmer named Niulang and a fire spirit named Zhinu, and Niulang had a buffalo-cow that was actually another spirit in disguise, and then Niulang and Zhinu fell in love but they couldn’t be together, and then the buffalo- uh, well, it’s kind of complicated.”

Zuko trails off, thankful Toph can’t see the way his cheeks are reddening.

She chortles loudly. “That sounds ridiculous.”

Zuko can’t think of a way to argue with that, so he just shrugs. “Yeah.”

He waits for her to leave, but Toph doesn’t seem like she has any inclination to move.

“I know it seems silly to be reading a kids story now,” Zuko admits, a little defensively. “But my Uncle always said it’s important to take time to enjoy a book, because you never know what lessons you might get out of it.”

Toph snorts. “Your Uncle may be wise, but I never really met a book I enjoyed.”

“Oh, right.” Zuko grimaces, wondering how he could forget so easily that Toph couldn’t read. After a moment he brightens, adding, “Well, Uncle also said that sometimes it’s not the story itself, but the act of sharing it with someone else.”

The earthbender falls quiet for a moment that stretches on so long Zuko wonders if he’s accidentally offended her.

“My mom used to read to me, when I was really little,” Toph finally admits. Her normally expressive face is unusually solemn. “And my tutors, they’d tell me stories. Though it was mostly boring history stuff.”

“My mom used to tell me stories too.” Zuko pauses, weighing his next words carefully. “Would you like me to read to you?”

For one terrifying moment he’s sure Toph will say no, that she’ll get angry and throw a rock at him- or worse, laugh in his face. But the little earthbender continues to be full of surprises.

“Sure, why not?” Toph’s tone has returned to its typical carefree snark, but something almost sad hides in her expression. “Impress me.”

Zuko doesn’t hesitate as he flips back to the beginning and starts to read out loud, the familiar words curling around him like a comforting blanket. _“There was once a young, poor, but kind-hearted cowhand called Niulang, and on his farm he had an old buffalo-cow…”_

Zuko can’t help but peek at Toph every few paragraphs to gauge whether she likes the story. It’s hard to tell; she’s reclined so far back on the earthen floor that he can barely see her face. After the first few pages he gives up checking for her approval and simply loses himself in the words, recounting details of the epic romance between a humble farmer and a beautiful fire spirit that's tragically doomed to fail. 

He’s just gotten to the part where the farmer sacrifices his own prized buffalo-cow for the chance to see his lover again, when Katara’s voice announces dinner from the next pavilion over. 

“I guess that’s all we have time for,” says Zuko, slowly closing the book. 

Toph sits up abruptly in protest. “What? You can’t just stop there! What happens next? Does Niulang ever get to see Zhinu again? What about their kids?”

Zuko blinks, startled at the aggressive questioning. “Uh, well, there’s still a fair amount of the story to go, and we shouldn’t be late for dinner…”

Toph waves her arms, her eyes wide. “Niulang just killed his oldest friend for the chance to enter the Spirit World, Sparky, you can’t leave me hanging!”

“Well-“

“I called you for dinner, didn’t you hear? We’re all ready to eat.”

Zuko jumps as Katara appears at the edge of the courtyard, her blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What are you two doing all the way out here, anyway?”

Toph huffs her long bangs out of her face in annoyance. “Well, Zuko _was_ reading me a story. And he somehow decided the best time to stop was in the middle of the most dramatic part.”

“This isn’t even the most dramatic part,” Zuko grumbles back. 

If Toph’s eyes widen any further, Zuko’s afraid they’ll pop out of her head. “You mean it gets even crazier?!”

Katara seems unimpressed by the younger girl’s outburst. “You’re reading stories? Where did… oh, never mind.” She shakes her head and motions back the way she came. “Come eat, everyone’s waiting.”

Toph falls into stride next to Zuko as they join the rest of the group. “After dinner, you’re finishing that book.”

“I guess that means you liked it, then?” Zuko asks. He tries not to sound too pleased with himself. 

The earthbender slugs him on the arm with enough force to send him stumbling. 

“Ow!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty interesting,” Toph finally admits as they sit down around the fire. “And I like the funny voices you do for the different characters.”

Zuko blushes, hoping no one else has picked up on what she just said. No such luck however, because Aang latches onto Toph’s words with a curious look on his face. 

“Zuko’s doing funny voices for what now?” Aang’s inquiry pulls the attention of the rest of the group, and five pairs of eyes swivel towards the firebender in question. Zuko fights back the urge to groan. 

Toph doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort, instead announcing matter-of-factly, “Zuko's reading me a spirit tale. He makes all of the characters sound different and does cool noises for the action scenes and everything.”

If possible, the group stares at Zuko even harder. 

“I used to read a lot with my mom,” he admits a little self-consciously. A pang runs through his chest at the memory of long afternoons spent in the shade of palace’s sprawling fire willow trees, scrolls and scrolls worth of stories strewn around the ground. “She’d give everyone a different voice and we’d take turns acting out scenes together… but she was always a lot better at it than I was.”

Aang’s face lights up like this is the best thing he’s ever heard. “That’s sounds really nice, Zuko! Hey, maybe we can read some of the parts with you!”

It’s hard to resist his enthusiasm, and Zuko manages a hesitant smile in return. “Yeah, that sounds… good.”

“How ‘bout you, Sokka,” says Aang as he turns hopefully to his friend, “do you wanna join? You’re great at doing voices.”

The warrior raises his eyebrows. “I do love a good impression,” he admits, though he conspicuously refrains from agreeing outright. 

Zuko squirms slightly as Sokka studies him with mild suspicion. Thankfully his expression veers more towards curiosity than full on mistrust, and eventually Sokka shrugs, apparently unable to see any way this could be a trap. “Sure, why not.”

If Aang notices the other boy’s hesitation, he doesn’t let it show. “Flameo!” 

The airbender looks around for any other eager volunteers and shrugs when he doesn’t see any. “I miss listening to spirit tales,” he continues. “The monks knew loads of them! Gyatso would always tell the funniest ones.”

The others, encouraged by Aang’s warmth, begin to chime in as well. 

“My dad used to tell me stories to help me fall asleep,” offers Teo with a wistful grin. “Though they’d be so crazy I’d always end up staying awake for hours afterwards.”

The Duke is next to add on, sitting up tall in his spot by Haru’s elbow. “Pipsqueak found us a bunch of scrolls once! But mostly we had to make stuff up to go along with the pictures, cuz none of us could read that good.” 

Nobody bothers to correct his grammar, and The Duke sighs. “I miss Pipsqueak.”

Zuko has no idea who Pipsqueak is. He has no idea who any of these kids are, honestly, just as none of them really know him- but he recognizes a familiar look in their eyes. It’s the sort of hurt Zuko’s come to identify in himself over the years: the almost desperate longing for home- wherever that might be- and the wish to once again see someone long since gone, or at least know they’re ok. It’s a sad truth that each and every one of this mismatched group has experienced far too much in their short time alive, and something about this painful realization tugs at Zuko’s heart.

“After we’re done eating, I’m gonna finish the story I was telling Toph. Uh, if anyone else wants to come listen.” The invitation is out of his mouth before Zuko has the chance to think twice. He can feel the group’s collective look of surprise mirrored on his own face, but he barrels on, hoping he hasn’t just made a terrible mistake. “And I’ve got a bunch of other things we can read after that, too.”

“There’s _more_?” crows Toph, her excitement effectively steamrolling over anyone else’s reaction.

Zuko clears his throat self-consciously. “Well yeah, there’s _On the Eve of the Summer Solstice_ and _Agni’s Great Revenge_ and _The Dragon Emperor,_ which is actually what the play _Love Amongst the Dragons_ is based off of, and I’ve even got a collection of epic poems by Zhang Jiuling…” 

Zuko trails off, blinking at everyone’s blank faces. “You’ve never heard of him?”

They all shake their heads. 

“Nope, haven’t heard of any of those,” says Sokka with a contemplative look. “The stories Gran Gran used to tell were more like: _The Marriage of Tui and La_ or _Why Polar Bear Dogs Hunt at Night_.”

“Or _The Man Who Poked the Walrus-Shark and Suffered a Horrible Gruesome Fate_ ,” adds Katara snidely. She shoots a glare at Zuko, who gulps in understanding. 

Sokka scrunches his nose, completely unaware of his sister’s thinly veiled hostility. “Huh… I don’t remember that one actually.”

An awkward silence descends over the group, which Haru quickly scrambles to fill. “Ok, but what about _The Tale of the Seven Badgermoles_?Or _The Maiden and the Earthbender_?”

“Or _The Importance of Safety Goggles and Why You Should Never Leave Distilled Bacui Berry Oil Near an Open Flame_!” adds Teo enthusiastically. All eyes swivel to him, and the young man chuckles sheepishly. “Um, my dad might’ve just made that one up.”

Toph sighs impatiently, her dirt-caked fingers drumming against the ground. “Ok we get it- we all grew up hearing different stories. Now are you done eating yet Sparky? We’ve got a book to finish.”

Zuko can’t help but smile as he hurriedly swallows his rice, somehow feeling lighter than he has in weeks. 

It doesn’t take long for Zuko’s apprehension to return in full force. Once the meal is done and the dishes are cleared away, what had at first seemed like a nice idea now looms over him like a threat. He’s certain the situation promises awkwardness at the very least and, if things go fully downhill, utter humiliation. 

Just what in Agni’s name had inspired him to volunteer for story time with a bunch of near strangers? Zuko had been comfortable enough that afternoon when he read out loud to Toph. But this feels like a different situation entirely. Already, Aang, Haru, Teo, and The Duke are gathered in front of him. The slowly dimming light highlights the expectant looks on their faces, and Zuko can’t help the flurry of anxious thoughts that cross his mind. What if he messes up the story and they laugh at him? What if they think it’s boring, or silly, or melodramatic, or they just hate it for no other reason than the fact that _he’s_ the one reading it, or-

Toph appears and shoves her way into the circle, effectively cutting off Zuko’s spiraling thoughts. She slouches even closer to his side than normal, all the while grumbling under her breath about drafty temples and lucky benders who have the power to regulate their own body heat. Zuko is a little taken aback by the way she’s practically cuddled into him but doesn’t comment. He half suspects she’s doing it more for his benefit than her own, a thought that sends an unexpected rush of gratitude through his chest. 

“Thanks,” Zuko murmurs, so quiet that only Toph can hear him. 

She doesn’t respond out loud, merely poking at him with her foot. Zuko takes it as her way of saying ‘you’re welcome.’ He’s not quite sure why having Toph curled by his side calms him so but he's nonetheless thankful; something about the little earthbender’s presence is utterly grounding (no pun intended).

Sokka is the last to join the group, settling himself comfortably between Haru and Aang. 

“Katara’s not coming?” the airbender asks.

Sokka shrugs nonchalantly in response, but Zuko doesn’t miss the slight downturn of his lips. “Nah, she said she’s tired.”

Aang accepts this excuse without further question, turning back to Zuko. “Alright Hotman, let’s hear it!”

“I told you not to call me that,” he protests half-heartedly. Zuko flips through his book, looking for the spot where he left off. “Uh, so I got about halfway through the story earlier with Toph, but I don’t know if you’ll all be able to understand it if I start in the middle…”

“Just go back to the beginning,” Toph suggests, before anyone else can respond. 

“You don’t mind hearing it again?” asks Zuko in surprise. “Huh, you’re really into this, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” the earthbender grumbles. She elbows Zuko without any real malice, a small grin on her face. 

For the first time in what feels like forever, the disgraced prince lets out a little laugh. “Ok, I’ll start at the beginning.”

Zuko’s current audience proves to be the most attentive one he’s ever had. Not that there’s much for him to compare to- Zuko hasn’t read out loud to anyone since he was a child, and even then it was mostly just with his mother. 

The few times he tried to read to Azula she’d outright dismissed his taste in spirit tales as stupid, instead preferring to pore over the extensive Fire Nation victory records housed in their royal library. Zuko still remembers the day she set his copy of _The White Dragon’s Quest_ on fire; he’d given up on the idea of them reading together soon after that. 

His sister’s friends had proven to be much kinder listeners, though even they weren’t perfect. The stories Zuko read with Ty Lee were regularly interrupted by her inability to sit still for long; the young girl was often distracted by various things happening around them and had a tendency of cartwheeling off to investigate. Mai by comparison had a much longer attention span. But even as a child she only voiced a small portion of what ran through her mind, and Zuko could never quite gauge whether the stoic girl actually enjoyed the stories he told.

Zuko has no such confusion here. Teo and Aang seem especially engrossed in the tale and let their feelings play openly across their faces- and they aren’t alone. Just about everyone gasps when Zhinu’s mother discovers her romance with Niulang and forces her back to the Spirit World forever. And even Sokka, who started off the evening trying to maintain his detached ‘cool guy’ attitude, can’t help but let out a little noise of dismay when finding out their protagonist had been tricked. 

Zuko relaxes more and more as the tale goes on, encouraged by his audience’s obvious enjoyment. He falls easily back into the exaggerated character voices that Toph had so enjoyed and even adds in some sweeping gestures to help illustrate the dramatic action scenes. It’s silly and fun but also a little bittersweet; despite the vastly different circumstances, Zuko can almost pretend he’s back in the palace gardens with his mother, bonding over these same stories over half a decade prior. 

By the time he’s finished reading, Zuko’s throat feels raw and he’s fighting back numerous yawns. It’s late- later than any of them planned on staying up, though nobody wanted to call it a night before finding out how the story ended. (They’d all cheered when Niulang and Zhinu finally reunited on their magical bridge, even though the moment was far from perfect. The lovers remained forbidden to meet except on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month each year- a compromise that hardly seems fair to anyone listening.)

Zuko snaps the book shut, effectively jolting his listeners back to reality. The comfortable atmosphere that had descended as he read begins to dissolve almost immediately, leaving those who still don’t quite know what to make of him shifting in their seats. 

“It’s late,” Sokka points out unnecessarily, if only to break the awkward silence. He hesitates before adding, “But that was fun. Thanks… Zuko.”

There’s a soft chorus of agreement from the others. Zuko lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relieved that the evening had gone without incident. “No problem,” he rasps. 

Zuko watches as Haru scoops The Duke up into his arms, the earthbender mouthing wordlessly that he’ll get the little boy tucked in for the night. The eight-year-old had struggled valiantly against his drooping eyelids for the better part of an hour, finally succumbing to sleep midway through the story. His head now lolls comfortably on Haru’s shoulder as they leave the courtyard. 

Teo wheels himself out after them, with Sokka following a couple steps behind. The Water Tribe teen throws a slightly perturbed glance over his shoulder as he goes; Sokka looks as though he can’t quite reconcile the impression he has of Zuko in his head with the person he’d just sat across from for the past hour. 

(Zuko allows himself to believe that this is a good thing.)

“I gotta hand it to you, Sparky,” says Toph once the others are gone. She and Aang haven’t yet moved, instead lingering by the smoldering campfire. “You’ve really got a flair for the dramatic.”

Zuko takes her teasing in stride. “I hope the conclusion met your expectations?” he asks drily.

Toph shrugs. “Eh, it was ok.” 

Her nonchalant response is betrayed by the smirk on her face, a look that Zuko can’t help but return.

“Just ok?” he asks. “Huh, then I guess that means you don’t want me to read you another one tomorrow.” 

He’s anticipating the punch that Toph lands on his arm, but it still hurts. “Ow, ok, I’m kidding,” Zuko grumbles. “Do you always have to do that?”

“Yup.” Toph’s grin splits into a wide yawn. “Well I’m beat. See ya in the morning.”

She heads for the main courtyard without another word, leaving Zuko and Aang alone. Zuko thinks- no, _knows_ he should follow her. The long day is hitting him all at once, and he suddenly feels drained, both physically and mentally. Right now nothing sounds better to Zuko than a good night’s sleep. 

So then why does he suddenly feel glued to the ground, unsettled and unable to move? 

Objectively speaking, there’s no reason for Zuko to be upset. The night had gone well. Everyone seemed entertained by his story, and even he had to admit that reading out loud to the group was fun- so much fun that he wouldn’t mind a repeat sometime in the future. Zuko thinks he should be happy. 

Like with so many other instances in his life, however, what Zuko thinks and what he feels can’t quite seem to match up. 

In an effort to distract himself, Zuko lets his gaze wander over to the only other person still in the courtyard. Aang hasn’t said a word since the others left, instead staring into the dying campfire in uncharacteristic silence. The young boy’s brow is slightly furrowed, and he’s clearly deep in thought about something- though Zuko can’t imagine what. Maybe he didn’t enjoy the story after all and is now trying to come up with a polite way to say it? Zuko had assumed Aang was having fun but now wonders if he misjudged the other boy’s reaction. 

_Just ask him_ , Zuko’s mind urges. _What’s the worst that could happen?_ The airbender’s name is out of his mouth before he can think twice. “Aang?”

Aang turns, startled, almost looking as though he’d forgotten Zuko was there. “Yeah?”

“Uh…” Zuko’s mind buzzes blankly, his question dying before he can get it out of his mouth. He shakes his head. “Never mind.”

Aang blinks. “Ok…” he says slowly. He seems to register Zuko’s strange mood, asking hesitantly, “Everything alright?”

Zuko pauses. His instinct is to brush off the airbender’s concern, but for some reason he just can’t bring himself to say anything at all. 

Aang’s face grows more apprehensive as the silence stretches. “Zuko?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

The words sound forced even to Zuko’s own ears. Aang clearly doesn’t buy it either, but he doesn’t pry. Instead he takes a second to chew over his lip before nodding at Zuko’s book. “That was a neat story you told. I hadn’t heard it before.”

Zuko’s gaze returns to the large volume in his lap. He unconsciously runs his fingers over its binding, the alternating rows of silk thread and folded paper providing a strangely calming sensation. Something about the gesture reminds him of Uncle, and Zuko grasps with a jolt that he’d seen the older man do the exact same thing a hundred times before, but never spared it much thought. 

The realization doesn’t help Zuko’s mood. 

“I’m glad you liked it,” he says finally. Then, a moment later, “I’m lucky to have this.”

Aang looks encouraged by Zuko’s response and nods. “Sokka mentioned you left it here for years, right? I’m glad it didn’t get damaged.”

Zuko shakes his head and tries to clarify what he’s trying to say. “No, I mean I’m lucky to have this book at all. Copies of stories like these, they’re not easy to find in the Fire Nation.” 

Aang cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“My Uncle probably had to go through a lot of trouble to get this,” says Zuko regretfully. “He must’ve known somebody who dealt in these kinds of things, or maybe this was an original copy passed down to him that he kept hidden away…” 

Zuko trails off, looking up to meet the other boy’s confused gaze. An unspoken question shines in Aang’s eyes, and Zuko furrows his brow in response. 

_Why does Aang look so surprised?_ he wonders. Being alive a hundred years ago, surely Aang of all people would know… It clicks in Zuko’s mind then, that no, Aang _wouldn’t_ know. Not unless anyone told him. 

Frozen deep beneath the South Pole just before the start of the war, Aang would have no idea that Sozin’s attack on the Air Nomads was preceded by months of propaganda campaigns aimed at his own people. The excuse of spreading the Fire Nation’s glory to the rest of the world had been just that- an excuse. One that allowed the then-Fire Lord to take drastic measures in an effort to control his citizens, before turning them against everyone else. 

Zuko knows the process couldn’t have been seamless, no matter what the royal history books may claim. He may not have been around a hundred years before, but the precious book in his hands is evidence enough. 

“There were massive burnings, Aang,” Zuko says grimly. “Decades ago, starting with Sozin and continuing on through my grandfather and father. Books, scrolls, information about the other nations, any piece of art or culture that the Fire Lord decreed improper.” 

Aang’s confused expression turns to horror. “They burned… But… why?”

Zuko shrugs. “What’s the fastest way to get rid of something you think is a threat? Especially when it’s made of paper.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The perturbed look on Aang’s face returns. “But… what was so threatening about the story you read tonight?”

“Ah.” Here Zuko’s voice takes on a bitter tone. “Niulang and Zhinu’s love was strong enough to bend the heavens. You think a guy demanding nothing short of absolute loyalty from his citizens wants that kind of thing floating around?”

“Guess not,” murmurs Aang. 

Silence falls once more. Zuko takes the opportunity to glance around the cloister, studying the fading murals that adorn the walls. The elaborate images of sky bison soaring through the air add to the thought that’s been lingering in the back of his mind all evening, and Zuko figures he might as well bring it up now that they’re already talking. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” Aang shifts so he’s facing Zuko more directly. His face is once again open, unassuming, and Zuko can’t help but be struck by just how young the airbender really is. “What is it?”

Zuko hesitates a moment before his question tumbles clumsily from his mouth. “Earlier, when people were sharing what kinds of stories they grew up with. You didn’t get a chance to say yours, and, well, I was just wondering what they were like.”

“Oh.” Aang smiles, though his eyes fill with an unmistakable sadness. He twists the hem of his tunic between his fingers as he thinks, finally declaring, “The monks told us stories about everything.”

“Everything?” Zuko asks.

“Yeah,” says Aang wistfully. “Things were so different back then. The monks would travel all over the world. They’d bring back stories from everywhere, well, any place accessible by flying bison that is. They’d tell us about people they met in the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation, and what kinds of animals they saw, and the festivals people celebrated and the different ways they danced…”

Aang continues speaking, his voice fading as an overwhelming thunder fills Zuko’s ears. The firebender realizes after a moment that it’s the sound of his own heart thudding painfully hard, and he sucks in a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. It doesn’t work. Something horrible is pressing down on Zuko’s chest, constructing his lungs and filling him with an inescapable nausea. 

He suddenly regrets asking Aang anything at all. A horrifying truth that he desperately doesn’t want to face looms closer and closer with the airbender’s every word, and it’s only the suddenly anvil-like weight of the book still resting on his lap that prevents Zuko from running away.

Aang is still speaking, unaware of the older teen’s silent panic. His voice rises brightly over the crackling campfire as he becomes fully immersed in his memories, leaving Zuko with no choice but to listen. 

“And even better than all those stories of faraway places were the ones about our own people. Tales like _The Journey of a Single Breath_ or _The Lemur’s Flight_ were classics- everyone from the oldest monk to the youngest child knew them. And except for when we would meditate, the temples were never silent. That’s one thing I remember the most. The air was always full of the sound of people laughing, playing games or telling jokes or reciting poetry, and there were bison and lemurs and people flying by on gliders. We’d play pai sho and bake fruit pies and whistle along with the sound of the wind through the towers-“

It’s this final minuscule detail that topples Zuko over the edge and forces him to recognize the painful reality behind Aang’s words. Everything the airbender is describing, the stories and the people and the culture, that is what his ancestors sought to destroy. All of that- that life, bright and free and _innocent_ \- is gone now, with barely a soul left alive in the world to even remember.

“It sounds… wonderful,” Zuko says after a moment. The words catch horribly in his throat, and he swallows hard against the guilt creeping up from his stomach. “I wish… I mean, I’m sorry things aren’t like that, anymore. What happened to your people, Aang, what my nation _did_ -“

Here Zuko takes a shuddering breath, his knuckles white as he grips the book in his lap like a lifeline. Part of him is shocked he’s saying the things he is; the Zuko of two weeks ago would never allow such vulnerability in front of a practical stranger, but now Zuko thinks he wouldn’t be able to stop the flow of words if he tried. 

“Everyone knew what happened,” he continues hoarsely, “or at least we thought we did. We learned about it in school, like it was something to be proud of, a great victory, a _triumph_ \- and even now that I’ve seen firsthand what the war has done to the Earth Kingdom and the Water Tribes I still didn’t fully comprehend-“

His voice is shaking so hard that he has to pause. There aren’t enough words to describe what Zuko wants to convey, but he knows has to try. “This doesn’t come anywhere near making things right, because there’s nothing that can take back what the Fire Nation did to your people. But I want you to know that I am so sorry, Aang, for… everything.” 

The apology hangs in the air, almost anticlimactic now that it’s been said. Zuko knows it doesn’t cover nearly the level of things that it should. But it’s a start. 

Aang seems to understand at least, nodding slowly as he hugs his knees to his chest. 

“Thanks Zuko.” His voice is subdued. Right now, the monk looks smaller and more vulnerable than Zuko has ever seen him, his shoulders hunched under the impossible weight of his loss. 

“I just wish…” Aang begins, a slight tremble in his voice. His gaze meets Zuko’s, gray eyes somber and imploring for something wholly out of reach. “I don’t know. There was so much more. Not just stories, but- _everything_. Some days it’s hard to remember.”

Zuko glances down, suddenly unable to look the last airbender in the eye. His gaze lands on his book of spirit tales, forgotten in his lap until now, and Zuko lets out a huff of bitter amusement. After hearing Aang speak about everything that had been taken from him, it seems almost like a mockery for Zuko to be holding this tangible record of his own nation’s culture in his hands.

To burn books is awful, yes. But to take a life- hundreds, if not thousands of _innocent lives_ -

“We’ll make sure they aren’t forgotten,” Zuko says suddenly. “If- I mean, when the war is over, you and me and Katara and Sokka and Toph and whoever else wants to help, we’ll track down every last scrap of information about your people, anything we can find. Their traditions, the stories- we’ll make sure people remember.”

Aang is silent for a long moment before he sniffs, swiping quickly at the tears that threaten to roll down his cheeks. Zuko glances away to give him a moment of privacy. He's startled when Aang speaks once more, his voice far steadier than expected. 

“I’d like that,” Aang says simply. He offers a watery smile that ignites something long buried within Zuko’s chest. The sensation beats against his ribcage in time with his heart, a little painful maybe, but not in a bad way. 

Zuko wonders if this is what it feels like to hope.

“We’ll tell their stories together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Atla draws inspiration and worldbuilding from various Asian and indigenous peoples, and I wanted to find a way to incorporate the mythologies of those real-world cultures into this fic. However- as a Chinese person, it just didn’t feel right to basically cherry pick certain stories/beliefs from other cultures (such as Japanese, Korean, Tibetan, Inuit, etc.) and throw them into a fictional setting, especially considering that I would probably end up modifying their titles/ characters in some way in order for them to better fit the general mythos of the Avatar universe. In the end, I decided that to just completely make up titles for the stories that the characters reference, except for Zuko’s Legend of the Cowhand and the Fire Spirit, which is based on an ancient Chinese folktale called The Legend of the Cowhand and the Weaver Fairy. Any other similarities between stories mentioned here and ones that exist irl is pure coincidence.
> 
> This turned out to be way more centered on Zuko and Aang than anticipated- my original focus was going to be Zuko bonding with Toph. However, I just could not let go of the idea of the Fire Nation burning books as a tactic to keep their people in line/ a way to prevent the spread of information about other nations and cultures. We see how deep the propaganda runs when Aang goes to Fire Nation school in season 3, but I suspect their tactics would have been much more blatant in the time leading up to the war and continuing through its early years.  
> I’m dying to hear anyone else’s ideas about this in the comments OR (shameless self plug) come talk to me on my new atla blog [maipreciation](https://maipreciation.tumblr.com/). Yup, I finally gave in to my reignited obsession for avatar and made a whole tumblr dedicated to it lmao. 
> 
> Ty for reading and hope you enjoyed!


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